Angry Tears
by K.H. Wright
Summary: Canada finally tells France what he thinks of him.


**A/N: Here's your stupid France/Canada fic Shar. :p **

**o0o**

Canada sat on the far side of the table, only half listening to the meeting. He was tired. Tired of feeling the way he did. They said love was an amazing emotion, but he just wished it'd go away. Sighing, he held his head in his hands. He guessed that it was his choice in love that had him down. Being in a one-sided love with France, the playboy of the world would bring anyone down. If he had to hear about another one of France's hook-ups, he was gonna hang himself.

The meeting let out early, (America was hungry) and sullenly Canada walked out of the conference room. For once he was glad to be practically invisible. He really didn't want to speak to anyone.

"Hey Canada!" Naturally, the one time…

"Oh, _bon jour _France," Canada said, trying not to stutter. "_Comment êtes-vous_?"

"_Je vais bien._" France smiled and Canada tried not to blush. "What about you, _mon ami,_ how are you? You look flushed, are you sick?"

"Just a little," Canada lied, taking a few steps back. "So I'd really like to get back to my hotel…" France put a hand to Canada's forehead.

"Hm, you do feel a bit warm," France said frowning. "I don't like the idea of you going to stay at a dirty hotel…"

"It's only for one more night until the meetings are done. Then I'm gonna be back home."

"I _really_ don't like the idea of you going back to such a cold place while you're sick. You're going to stay with me at my place. Come on, the car's just outside," France began to drag Canada out the door. The younger man tried to stutter out an excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. Outside the other Allies were loitering around the building. Russia seemed to be conversing with an uncomfortable looking China and America was pestering England about something as usual. As he was being dragged into France's fancy car, Canada locked eyes with his brother and mouthed the words "help me." For a second, he thought America was going to come to his rescue, but his older brother simply smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

"Useless, America…" Canada whimpered as France's car pulled out. "You're simply useless…"

"Who's useless?" France asked leaning over to stare out the window to see what his former charge was looking at. Canada blushed at their sudden closeness.

"N-no one. Just talking to myself," he said, pushing France back into his seat. The older man tilted his head.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that. You need to speak up more. You're never going to get anywhere in life if you don't stand up for yourself. Look at your loud-mouth of a brother; he's done well for himself, despite being an arrogant ass. That's because he stands up for himself," France said, holding up a finger. Canada felt a shot of jealousy run through his chest.

"You're telling me to be more like America?" he asked, staring at his feet.

"No, _mon ami_, I'm telling you to grow a spine," France said bluntly.

"You want me to start saying how I feel?" Canada said, his hands shaking angrily.

"_Oui,_ now, you're getting it."

"Okay, fine. This is how it is." Canada faced France full on, angry tears running down his cheeks. "You're a pretentious, pompous, conceited old pervert. Your language is unnecessarily confusing and your food is strange. You never listen to me, just like everybody else and...And..." Canada lost his steam and dropped his head. "…And I think I love you," he finally whispered.

France was flabbergasted. For a moment, all he could do was stare at Canada as the younger man wept. Finally, the words found their way to his core, and he leaned forward, taking the younger man's face in his hands.

"_Je t'aime trop, mon amour_," he said softly. Canada met his eyes.

"_Vraiment_?"

"_Oui_," France responded, kissing the other man on the forehead, then the nose, before finally pressing his lips to Canada's. For a while, the two were caught in a passionate embrace, until finally, France pulled back, a hurt look in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Canada asked, breathless.

"What did you mean by 'old?'" he asked.

Canada just laughed. That was his France…

o0o

**Alright, there ya go. Just a simple little one-shot. Hopefully I didn't f*ck up the French too much. I don't speak a word of it (thank God for Google Translate.) Anyway, leave a review please~**

**-K.H. Wright**


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